Trying
by Asanisan
Summary: Out clubbing with the girls, Rogue meets up with our favorite Cajun and they have a little heart to heart over loud music and maybe some bourbon. Romy.


**Trying **

The punk techno pounded through the dim lit, smoky haze of the room. Strobe lights and multicolor spotlights glided across the crowd on the dance floor, stinging sensitive eyes and causing the whole scene to look like something from a Mars set on a bad sci-fi horror flick. Rogue sat at one of the many tables along the wall, watching the bodies grind and grate against each other and keeping an eye on the drinks. All that breathing each other's sweat could really make a girl claustrophobic. It was one of the few times she was glad of her powers. You couldn't get a better excuse to stay out of that stupid frenzy than a little, well-placed bump from one of the scantily bimbos on the dance floor could land someone in the hospital, most likely the girl who thought a bikini was appropriate clubbing attire.

Well, it beat doing homework any day. And the thrill of getting into the club when you're underage was slightly addicting. She swilled her coke as she smiled at Kitty and Amara heading to the table.

"Like, you'll never believe where Jean and Boom-Boom are," Kitty laughed as she flopped down on the plush booth seat.

"Why? Where are they?" Rogue asked.

"They're up there with the deejay!" Amara said, eyes bright with excitement. "See the pole and the cage?"

"That's them?!" Rogue asked incredulously.

"Yeah, they're like so playing the bad girls!" Kitty laughed again. "Well, Jean got dragged into it for being a 'prudish old maid.' At least, that's how Boom-Boom put it. I think Jean's just trying to prove her wrong."

"Well, she's certainly doing that," Rogue admitted as she watched the vaguely distinguishable redhead pull off a provocative dip and shake.

"It's just the atmosphere in this place!" Amara said wonderingly. "It makes you want to throw away everything holding you back, you know."

"Yeah," Rogue said sadly, watching the dancers gyrate and thinking about control, self-restraint, and the consequences to certain actions.

"Come on, Rogue," Kitty goaded, noticing her friends look. "Why don't you come out there with us? You're covered up. It'll be fine. Just let loose. That's what this night is all about, you know."

"I know, Kitty. And I'm lettin' loose just by followin' y'all on this crazy ride," she said with a smile. "We are so gonna get busted."

"Nah, we won't get busted," Kitty said with a smirk and dismissing wave of her hand. "Who's going to know?"

"Logan will smell the smoke and alcohol from this place five miles away the minute we walk in," Rogue said with hooded eyes and the left side of her mouth quirked in a smile. She was enjoying herself, despite herself.

"You're so right!" Kitty said with a mock fearful expression. "I guess we'll just have to take a dip in the pool before we sneak back into the mansion."

Then she winked with a positively mischievous smile.

"You are so _not_ pushin' me in this time, Kit."

"Oh, we'll see, Rogue. We'll see."

"Whatever. Just take that one out on the dance floor before she starts drooling," she said with a nod at Amara, who had done nothing but stare at the dancers as soon as she sat down.

Kitty laughed and nodded, taking the younger girl by the hand and dragging her out to join the swaying mass of would-be Martians, stopping only to give the Rogue a careless, enthusiastic wave.

Rogue smiled at them and waved back a little less excitedly, feeling in good spirits for some strange reason. Maybe this place was getting to her after all. The end of the song reverberated through the room, rocking the walls. The deejay was good. There wasn't even a pause in the music as the next song started playing. Ah, the Killers. Not exactly techno, but danceable. Her foot started tapping along and she wished she could be out there dancing. Of course, she also wished there wasn't such a large crowd and for a little space to breathe. Neither was wish was happening this night, but she did let her hips rock slightly with the beat as she stayed in her seat.

She was so busy appreciating the music and laughing at the dancers practically slobbering all over each other that she didn't notice when someone sat across. Oh course, considering who it was, she probably wouldn't have noticed him if she hadn't been.

"You look like you're having a good time, _chere_"

Her eyes went wide and the screaming of the Killers faded to the background. She looked across from her to see her ex-kidnapper and resident thief. His eyes glowed softly in the semi-darkness and the occasional colored flash of the spotlights showed her just how wide that smirk on his face was.

"What're you doin' here?" she asked with a frowning glare.

"Just saw a _belle __fille _sittin' all on her lonesome and thought it my gentlemanly duty ta keep her comp'ny. "

"Pfft. You? A gentleman? More like crazy kidnapper/stalker," she said, leaning forward to poke him in the chest.

He caught her hand and kissed the back of it. She was glad she wore gloves or he would be unconscious and she did not want to explain that one when one of the girls came back.

"You wound me, _chere_," he said, holding a hand over his heart.

She gave him a skeptical look at his dramatic tone. "Now, really. Why're you here?"

"Thought you might be in de talkative mood," he said with a handsome, come-hither cock of the lips as he leaned in.

"And what makes you think I'm in a talkative mood?" she asked, face taking on a suspicious aspect.

"Remy has a good feel for de Rogue," he said with a smile, leaning back and surveying her with a satisfied grin. "You want ta be out there dancin' wit your friends maybe? But cause o' your powers, you stay here and enjoy the music as best you can."

"I really hate it when you do that," she said darkly, angrily turning away from him with crossed arms.

"What?" he asked curiously, the seductive persona dropping for a moment as he let his genuine feelings show. She could tell he was just looking for someone to talk to tonight and sighed.

"When you tell me what I'm feelin'. It's frickin' annoyin'," she informed.

"At least I be affectin' you, non? I think dis relationship is really startin' to progress." He stretched his arms behind his head in a very self-satisfied way.

"What relationship? The only thing between you an' me is a former enmity," she rebuffed.

" 'Former?'" he asked slyly.

She cast him a glance out of the corner of her eye, wanting to wipe that grin off his face so she could see how he really felt.

"Don't be getting' any ideas, Cajun. I'm still mad at you for that little trip to New Orleans."

"What? Still? I thought you forgave me for that," he said, picking up her drink and taking a sip. He must have found something off about it because he wrinkled his nose at it.

"Well, you thought wrong. And don't drink my coke," she protested, trying to grab it back from him.

He waved of her attempts and took a flask out of his coat pocket, pouring a little of whatever was in there into her beverage. He swirled it around and took another sip, giving an approving nod at the new spritzer.

"What'd chu put in it?" she questioned furiously, again reaching for the glass.

"Just a little Bourbon," he said, gladly handing it over to her. "Drink some. You could stand to lighten up some, _chere_."

She huffed and set it to the side. "I am not gettin' tipsy around you. I just know it'll end up with you dead to the world and me blowin' stuff up."

He laughed and took her glass for himself. "Dat probably 'bout right, _chere_."

She huffed, but all hard feelings were gone at his comforting laugh.

"So what're you doin' back in Bayville, Cajun?" she asked sincerely. "Thought you had family back in the Big Easy."

He turned his gaze to the dancers as the song changed to some pop techno song she was sure neither of them appreciated.

"You been inside my head, Roguey. You know I want as far away from dem an' dat life as possible."

"And all it took was some bourbon to get a straight answer out of ya," she said with a sarcastic smile. "Did it hurt?"

His grin matched her smile. "Little bit. Why, you goin' to kiss it better?"

"Not on your life. So what have you been up to since you've been back?" she asked, reaching for Kitty's virgin margarita and taking a sip.

"You know, this an' that."

"Steal anythin' lately?"

"Maybe, maybe no. That a problem?" he asked.

His eyes glowed a little stronger and she had to wonder what it meant. Either way, she was tired of his bad-boy attitude.

"Don't you ever get tired a bein' the bad guy?" she asked, truly wanting to know the answer.

"Sick an' tired," he said, adding a little more bourbon to the coke and taking a big swallow.

She smirked and shook her head, dropping her gaze to the table. She was remembering a cold ledge where she had made a decision and a warm jet she wouldn't be thrown out of even though she was the enemy.

"What?" he asked of her odd behavior.

"'I'm startin' to see what you meant by the two of us bein' a lot alike?"

"What you mean, _chere_?"

"Nothin'. You know, you could try somethin' else if you're sick and tired," she said with earnest green eyes.

"T'ain't dat easy, _ma __chere_. Pasts can't help but get dragged along wit you," he answered sadly, taking her hand in his and tracing the fingers absently with his thumb.

"You think I don't know that?" she asked a little angrily, ignoring the physical contact for now. "I've done things I ain't proud of too, you know."

"What's it feel like?" he asked suddenly.

"What's what feel like?"

"Bein' a former enemy fightin' wit de X-men stead of against dem?"

She smiled softly. "It feels a lot like redemption some days. Other days it feels like you'll never make it."

"But you still got da try." His smile was ironic.

"I'm not sayin' it's easy. But it's the only thing my conscience'll let me do."

They stayed silent for a moment, the noise of the techno jam now playing not meaning a thing as the Martian world fell away. This was Earth they were sitting on, just the two of them. Those dancers out there on the floor? They had thrown it away tonight, preferring to spend their time fifty million miles away in space before they came back down tomorrow morning. Rogue couldn't help but think that some people had a little too much weight on their shoulders to go flying off like that as she watched him stroke her fingers one by one, feeling him without touching.

"_Chere_."

"Yeah?

"You t'ink I can do it?"

"No."

He looked up at her with surprise and she smiled at him softly, squeezing his hand.

"I know you can do it."

He smiled at her and chuckled to himself, squeezing her hand back. Then he pierced her with excited eyes.

"_Chere_, I want to…"

But she never got to find out what he wanted, because there was a crash and some of the speakers moaned before shorting out. The previously loud music stopped with a scratch and people ran away screaming from the gaping hole where the wall had been. A ten-foot tall mound of earth with a loud mouth stood in the center of it all demanding money and why he hadn't been invited to the party.

"Why does this always happen whenever we try to go out?" she asked rhetorically with a sigh, already standing and taking off a glove for the upcoming fight.

She could see the girls coming to help as well as she expected and knew this mutant was going to be done for the count. What she hadn't been expecting (well, maybe she had) was for Gambit to be right by her side as she charged this new enemy.

And so the battle went. Dodge the flying rocks, land a couple of hits, and try not to get hit yourself. It all went well with no one sustaining serious injuries. They had all gotten in their fair share of hits, but everyone was surprised when it was Gambit who landed the final blow via exploding card to the face. He stood there on top of that mountain of a man and smirked down at her while her friends stared. She couldn't help but mess with him a little, smiling the whole time so he knew it was her way of congratulating him.

"What? You think you're some type of hero standin' up there, bad man?"

He leaned down on a partially bent knee and gave her the most beautiful smile she had ever seen.

"No. But I be tryin'."

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**Disclaimer **(because I wouldn't put it past Marvel to sue my broke ass): The only things I claim are Mountain Man (if he _is_ a Marvel character, then I disclaim him) and the nice metaphors and semi-prose in this fic. The rest belongs to the respective owners.

**Author's Note: **What he was going to say before he was so rudely interrupted by Mountain Man (Heh, get it? He's ten feet tall, has a body made of dirt, and controls earth and a little bit of seismic activity...Get it?) was that he wanted to join the X-men.

Sorry if I got the Cajun accent wrong. I don't have a lot of experience hearing the authentic version. Also, I don't speak french, so yeah. I apologize if I offended anyone. I don't know about a Mississippi accent, but I know Rogue's accent passes for a southern drawl in Texas. Actually, down in Texas, she wouldn't have an accent. That's how we speak here. Well, I do know some people from East Texas who really lay it on thick, but that's still kind of normal to my hearing, so I don't do a good job typing it.

I usually write for anime, but the Marvel universe is fun. I call it crack without a canon. Every time I read anything about it, I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of a lot of it. But I suppose that's what happens when you take a generally machismo form of art and expression and try to give it some depth. Kidding! Kidding. It's plenty deep, but I always felt that most of the characters were made-to-order super-heroes who were given a few faults to make them seem more human rather than humans with the occasional super-power. Whenever I'm trying to analyze a Marvel character, I have to wonder if the creator made the character to fit the super-power or if he made the character and then gave him/her a power. For me, the latter is preferable. That's why I prefer manga, I guess. In my experience with manga, it's all been about the very human characters, special powers or no.

Looking back at this rambling AN, I only have to say that one should never write an AN when in a talkative mood.

Asanisan


End file.
